


got a scar where all my urges bled

by lullabelle



Category: Secret Circle (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabelle/pseuds/lullabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all a game, except when it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got a scar where all my urges bled

Melissa moves forward suddenly, forcing Faye to take several steps back. The seat of the hard wooden chair, positioned squarely in the middle of the room, hits the back of her legs. She sits hard, graceless, but it doesn't matter -- Melissa is on her before she can recover, straddling her thighs, pinning her. Faye's wearing a look of confusion over the usual expression of vague superiority. She might be expecting Melissa to hit her, but Melissa doesn't. She _won't._ Instead, she twists one hand into Faye's loose, thick hair and pulls her head back just far enough, she hopes, to be uncomfortable.

Melissa studies Faye's face for a moment, wondering what she's thinking. Faye studies back, and Melissa knows she must look like a wreck, with her red-rimmed eyes and smudged make-up, but her outward appearance completely under represents quite how empty she feels. She sees something in Faye's expression soften.

"I never wanted it like this," Faye tells her. "I never wanted _you_ like this."

Melissa makes a disbelieving noise and lets go. Because it doesn't really matter _how_ Faye gets what she wants, just that she always does and it is deeply, profoundly unfair. And then, before Faye can react, Melissa kisses her -- fast, messy, and _hard_. Faye tries to keep up at first, but it's useless, and in the end she relents and lets Melissa just take what she needs. Her hands go to Melissa's hips, pulling her in tighter and forcing her friend's legs to spread wider, straddled across her thighs. 

Melissa moans at the increase in pressure, all of her attention suddenly focused squarely between her legs. It should be frustrating that, even pinned down like she is, Faye takes control from her so effortlessly. Melissa ghosts her hands across Faye's breasts by way of response, cupping them with her palms to feel the hardening nubs of Faye's nipples through her thin cotton shirt and satiny bra, gratified when she hears that Faye's breathing is just as labored as her own. She circles her thumbs around playfully, teasing, and when she's sure she's gotten Faye's attention, pinches hard and twists.

Faye's head drops back with a pained gasp and Melissa attaches her mouth to that vulnerable expanse of neck and sucks. She releases Faye's tortured nipples after a moment, and returns to stroking soothingly. The noises Faye's making are absolutely beautiful, and unrestrained in a way Melissa had never expected to hear from her. She drags her mouth up over the line of Faye's jaw and back to her mouth, more restrained this time, carefully mapping the inside of her friend's mouth with her tongue. Beneath her, Faye moves so that she can press one hand to Melissa's back to brace her, as she gets her opposite hand between Melissa's legs and presses the seam of her jeans hard against her clit. Melissa cries out, pulling her mouth away from Faye's. Faye moves her hand hard and fast and oh god it's too much, it _hurts_ , but underneath the pain there's an almost overwhelming pleasure that she can't _quite_ reach, but she's close and oh _fuck_ it _hurts_. Just as she's about to cry uncle and tell Faye to stop, let up please, Faye moves her hand, just a fraction to one side, and what Melissa actually says is more like, " _There_ , there, please, yes, _Faye_ \--" and for once Faye listens to her as she climbs and sobs and shudders and finally breaks apart into a million gasping pieces. Eventually she has to slap Faye's hand away.

Melissa takes a shaky a couple of shaky breaths to steady herself, feeling suddenly awkward but determined not to let it show. Faye watches her through heavy-lidded eyes as she stands, her knees wobbling just a bit, and backs away. She feels whatever connection she'd felt with Faye in that moment snapping like so many twangy guitar strings come loose, not so much broken as sated.

Faye straightens her shirt and, seeing the detachment in Melissa's face, goes on the offensive. "Was it good for you?" she demands, the beginning of a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Winning by default isn't really winning," Melissa snaps. She turns on her heel and stomps off, boots clunking loudly against the old wood of the abandoned house.

Faye straightens her shirt and watches Melissa go. 

It's okay.


End file.
